


5 Times Beruka Surprises Mozu, and 1 Time Mozu Surprises Her Back

by amadeusofnohr



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2018, Friends to Lovers, less even, minor violence but not really worse than canon, say hello to the rarepair nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 13:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadeusofnohr/pseuds/amadeusofnohr
Summary: Beruka pines, Camilla meddles, and Mozu comes to terms with life at war.





	5 Times Beruka Surprises Mozu, and 1 Time Mozu Surprises Her Back

-1-

 

Mozu knows she doesn’t have to do anything in the kitchens, knows that the royal army has chefs hired and paid to do that sort of thing, but she can’t help it. She likes feeling useful, and cooking is something she’s good at. Sometimes, though, she’s here more for her own sake. Sometimes she can’t stop thinking about the screams and the cries and her mother and the blood on her hands.

So, she’s here in the kitchens at an ungodly hour in the morning, kneading dough. The motions are familiar and comforting. She breathes, in and out, as she kneads, fold and push. Breath in, fold, breath out, push. It’s a monotonous task, but one she can focus intently on.

She’s so focused, in fact, that when she hears a noise behind her she almost screams. Instead she gasps and whirls around, reaching for a weapon she doesn’t have.

“Oh gosh! Sorry about that. Y-you startled me.” It’s probably a good thing she didn’t bring her bow with her.

“My apologies.” The flat voice belongs to _Beruka_ of all people. “It was my intention to complete my task without disturbing you.”

Beruka was one of the last people Mozu expected to see here. The way she had heard it, putting Beruka anywhere near a stove was asking for an over-salted, inedible disaster.

“Ah, it’s my fault for bein’ so caught up in my own head. What, uh, what brings you to these parts?” She turns back around to continue kneading, feeling more than a little awkward.

“I am retrieving sustenance for my wyvern.” Answers Beruka from behind her. There’s light foot-steps and rustling as Beruka makes her way to the vegetable crates. Mozu makes a considering noise.

“That’s awfully sweet of you.” Even Beruka has a sweet side for animals, it seems.

“Do not misunderstand,” comes the muffled response. “I have just completed a mission where my wyvern had to exert itself. If it does not eat, it will become weak and useless to me on future assignments.” Mozu’s kneading stops, briefly, as she remembers exactly what it is that Beruka does for a living. Her spine tingles, but it’d be rude to turn back around now.

“There’s fresh carrots in the top red crate.” She offers instead. “I picked ‘em myself just the other day.” There’s a pause in the rustling, and then the sound of wood scraping as Beruka opens said crate.

“I will not disturb you again.” And then she’s gone. Mozu breathes out. She doesn’t feel like kneading anymore, but she can’t just leave the dough as it is.

 

-2-

 

The next time Mozu speaks to Beruka is on the battlefield. She’s determinedly picking off Faceless with her bow, careful to stay behind the front lines. She switched to the bow when she realized what using a lance entailed. It’s easier to not see the faces of any of her enemies. She feels the best at times like this, when the enemies are just monsters terrorizing a town.

She’s reaching for another arrow when the ground beneath her begins to shake. She stumbles backwards, almost falling over, as the earth splits apart and more Faceless climb out of the chasm.

It’s only her mother’s voice in her head that keeps her from swearing. She notches two arrows onto her bow, this time. Her dagger won’t help her against this many enemies, and she doesn’t really need to aim in such close range. The Faceless are too large for her outrun, and when one finally gets close enough to raise a clawed hand, she ducks, holding her bow in front of her face.

Then there’s a _whoosh_ and a shadow falling over her, and the thump of a bodies hitting the ground. It’s Beruka, astride her wyvern. The remaining Faceless are dispatched with ease and Beruka turns to face Mozu, flicking ichor off her axes.

“Thanks,” pants Mozu, face going red, lowering her bow and preparing another arrow just in case. Beruka doesn’t say anything, just stares at her. After a moment, Beruka kicks her heels into her wyvern’s sides.

“Think nothing of it. It is my duty to fight.” The wyvern flaps its gnarled wings and takes off. Mozu shakes her head and goes back to looking to targets. She can be embarrassed about this later.

She is, in fact, more than embarrassed that night. She can’t stop thinking about how meaningless it would have been to just die like that, on one of dozens of battlefields the Nohrian army marches through. And so instead of heading for the kitchens to soothe her nerves, she makes her way to one of the camp’s training fields.

The sound of arrows hitting targets is its own kind of soothing, and before she knows it her fingers are aching. It feels like her calluses are starting to develop calluses. She lowers her bow to give her poor hands a reprieve. It’s then that she notices a shadow making its way towards her. She picks the bow back up, just to be safe, before she calls out.

“Uh, howdy there. I’m usin’ this training field, sorry. I shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“That is not a problem. I do not require use of the field for myself.”

“Beruka?” She squints into the darkness, and sure enough, the other woman fades into view.

“You are quite proficient with a bow.” Mozu can’t help but grin, just a little.

“I’ve been working hard. I wouldn’t be much of a soldier without a weapon.”

“That is true. However, there are still areas in which you are lacking.” Her face falls.

“I-I know I’m more of a liability than anything, but I-“

“You misunderstand me. You are an asset to the army, and thus if you were to fall in battle it would hinder us.”

“Oh?” Mozu squeaks, and her face feels hot. Obviously Lady Corrin would’ve never let her join up if she was just going to be dead weight, but…

“As such, I will assist you in learning close-range combat.” Beruka’s face betrays no emotion, but her arms are crossed and she’s looking off to the side, avoiding Mozu’s eyes. Mozu can’t help but smile widely. Even assassins can be shy, it seems.

“I’d appreciate that! And I can pay you back. I can cook something up for us after training.” Beruka’s arms tighten.

“That will not be necessary. Food is merely a requirement of the body. There is no need to spend extra effort on it.” Mozu giggles.

“That’s what you say now! But just wait until you’ve tasted some of my recipes.” Her hands don’t hurt as much anymore, and suddenly she feels like maybe, just maybe, she can go back to sleep after all.

 

-3-

 

She sees Beruka a lot more after that, as promised. It’s a little awkward at first, but it’s easy to adjust. Beruka may not always feel like actually having a conversation, but she never minds when Mozu just rambles on and on. Sometimes she disappears for a day or two, and Mozu knows better than to ask what she’s been up to.

The army is on break, waiting for new orders from King Garon. They’re set up nearby a relatively large town, for once, and will probably be here for a while. Beruka hasn’t been around in a few days, so Mozu decides it’s fair for her to take a break from training, just for a day. It’s the height of the best season for some of her favorite fruits and veggies, and there’ll actually be something more complex than the usual makeshift kitchens for her to cook in. She puts on one of the only casual outfits she has, the one she was wearing when she left her village. She hums cheerily as she ties her cape around her neck and swings around a straw basket. It probably won’t hold everything she ends up buying, but she might as well come prepared. She takes a pair of light pink roses, just like the ones they used to grow in their garden, and tucks them into her hair. It’s going to be a good day.

It turns out to be a great day. She’s halfway to the town when Beruka appears, looking a little sweatier than usual. Mozu waves, pleasantly surprised.

“Beruka! I thought you’d be restin’ up after being gone for so long.” Beruka grunts in response, matching her strides with Mozu’s as they continue down the path.

“Ordinarily, that would be so. However, I was assigned another mission by Lady Camilla upon my return.”

“That’s awfully rude of Lady Camilla, to work you to the bone like that. Are you uh, meeting someone in town?”

“Negative. My mission is to guard you for today.” Mozu stops walking, shocked.

“Th-that seems like a bit much! Surely you’d be more useful helping out Lady Camilla.” Beruka’s lips quirk up, just a little.

“That is what I told her. She claimed that I was not her babysitter, and that I must do as she says.” Mozu shakes her head in disbelief.

“Well, I suppose anyone trying to attack Lady Camilla would have to deal with her first, anyways.”

The town is bustling when they arrive in spite of the early hour. There’s all sorts of farmers set up in booths, and even some craftsmen. Light glints off the gemstones embedded in their wares, pots and necklaces and bracelets. She spends a few minutes looking over them in awe before forcing herself to move on to the crops. It’s crowded enough that the good stuff won’t be here long.

The haggling is fierce, but she successfully obtains a sack of potatoes that she hand-picked. She’s about to pull out the payment when Beruka steps in front of her.

“Allow me. I have supplemental income. You do not.” Mozu wants to insist, but the potato vendor doesn’t look particularly patient. She smiles politely and takes the potatoes, and promptly hands them off to Beruka, who looks fairly off-put for an emotionless assassin.

“I cannot protect us from any enemies if my hands are full.”

“Think of it like strength training! If you’re going to be following me you can be useful.”

“You could easily carry these on your own.”

“That’s not the point. I need my hands for paying, see,” She insists, handing over more coins in exchange for some leeks. Maybe it’s a bit mean to make Beruka hold produce just so she won’t pay for everything Mozu buys, but it’s not like that’s the only reason. It’s also because Beruka looks hilariously out of place in her black armor while carrying a plain old sock of potatoes.

They flit all around the market, and Mozu elbows more than a few old ladies on her quest to secure the best produce for herself. It’s exhilarating, in a way very different from battle.

“These are perfect!” she gushes, rolling a carrot over in her hands and showing it to Beruka. “They’re still firm, and no white spots means they’re pretty fresh.” She stares at it intensely.

“Good eye!” praises the farmer at the booth slyly, looking Mozu over. “Then you should also know that these are worth quite a pretty penny.”

Mozu humphs, crossing her arms. “I also know that they’re on the small side for this time of year.” The farmer meets her gaze.

“All the crops this season are,” he counters. “You won’t be finding any bigger than this.”

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I took my business to someone else.” The farmer sighs and names his price, a much fairer one. Mozu adds the carrots to Beruka’s arms.

“You know a lot about farming.” Beruka offers from beneath the pile of merchandise that’s almost taller than she is. Mozu hums in agreement, eyes scanning the market for her next target.

“I grew up doin’ this sort of thing. Runs in the family. I think I learned how to weed before I could walk.” Something catches her eye.

“Oh! Look!” She points out one of the stalls.

“Mochi?”

“Sometimes when I was younger, Hoshidan merchants would stop by town and sell them. Some even gave them out to the younger children for free. I never would’ve thought I’d see them again, especially not now…” Unsurprisingly, they’re exorbitantly priced. The man must’ve gone through quite some trouble to obtain them. She bites her lip and paws through her pouch, counting how much she has left.

“Food is a need of the body.” Beruka interrupts, somehow balancing enough baskets on one arm to grab her own medieval wallet. Mozu wants to wave her off, but, well … how can she turn down mochi?

“Thank you,” she says, and she means it. They settle down on the side of the road so Beruka can free her hands. The mochi taste just as good as she remembers.

“There is no need to thank me. Food is a need of the body.” Insists Beruka, in spite of the way she’s frowning at the mochi in her hand. She’s only taken a single bite of it, and there’s flour smudged on her cheek. It takes every ounce of willpower in Mozu’s body to not laugh at her. Instead, she licks her thumb and leans over to wipe it off.

“And here I thought you didn’t make messes,” she teases. Beruka stiffens at her touch. Too friendly? She snatches the mochi from Beruka’s hand.

“There’s not much nutrients in this anyways.” She says sweetly, popping the entire thing into her mouth. Beruka looks away.

“I suppose we shall go in search of proper sustenance next, then.”

“A real lunch sounds good,” she agrees, standing up and brushing off her hands. She tries to grab half the load this time, but Beruka blocks her hands. Mozu shakes her head in exasperation, and off they go.

The sun is almost setting by the time they’re finally ready to leave. They weave their way around the packing merchants and farmers in the midst of packing up their leftover wares. A sign blows in the wind and rattles against the stone wall of the building it advertises. Mozu hesitates. It’s been a good day. A very good day, in fact. For her.

She ducks inside the flower shop, and Beruka follows.

“Is there a specific species you are in need of?” Beruka’s eyes dart to the flowers tucked into her hair. She touches them, a little self-consciously.

“Ah, I have a few more of these. We grew them in the garden at home. Maybe should’ve used the soil space for more food, but they’re pretty.” She picks up a bouquet, using the last of the money she had brought with her.

“You can probably go on ahead to camp.” She says awkwardly once they’re back on the forest trail. “This is a little silly a’ me.” Her companion doesn’t say anything, watching expectantly.

She places the bouquet at the base of a tree and kneels down.

“I don’t know what happens to the bodies, when we move on. Whether the Hoshidans ever bury them, if their families have a gravce to mourn at it, if they even send them off at all. It’s… not right. We didn’t have time to bury any of my villagers, either.” And maybe her guilt is because more than a few of them died at her hands. Maybe she just wants to be able to enjoy things again, without the knowledge of what she’s done heavy on her mind. Beruka seems oddly quiet, almost pensive.

“Sometimes, I visit my mother’s grave.” Mozu looks at her in surprise.

“I never met my parents. Even now, I do not know whether I should hate them or thank them for bringing me into this world. Most of the time I feel nothing towards them at all. I know nothing about them, aside from their names. My mentor took me in, taught me my trade. He was the closest thing I had to a family, but it was never quite like that.” That’s… a lot more personal information than Mozu ever really expected to hear from her.

“What happened to him?” She asks softly. “I killed him. He was the target of one of my first contracts.”

Her eyes widen. Beruka’s voice is empty. “Killing is an unchanging facotr in this world. It was my mission.” There’s something oddly stagnant in her tone, like it should’ve meant more than, like she knew she should regret it and feel sorrow, but she doesn’t.

“Your missions all come from Lady Camilla now, don’t they? How’d you meet her?” A smile, or what passes for one on Beruka’s face, anyways, ghosts her lips.

“I was hired to kill her. Fortunately for her, she hired me immediately, thus avoiding a grisly fate.” Mozu summons a snort. That sounds exactly like Lady Camilla.

“You two seem very close now.” Beruka’s face freezes.

“I … trust her. Her missions are always reasonable. For the good of the country.” Mozu considers that.

“I didn’t realize that mattered to you.” “It did not always.” Admits Beruka easily. “But if there is a cause, I can devote myself to it. It is more logical than killing without reason. I do not have to think about whether any of them deserve to die. It does not matter. They simply have to.”

It makes a twisted sort of sense, and Mozu thinks about what kind of cause she is fighting for. Her mind summons images of her village, empty and destroyed, and her family’s smiling faces. But the Faceless who attacked are already dead aren’t they? Technically, wouldn’t it be Nohr’s fault that the Faceless struck?

But she thinks about Lady Corrin, who runs around with bare feet and wild hair, and who always has time to talk to anyone in her army. Whose eyes blaze when she talks about ending the fighting, once and for all. Even her siblings, who went behind their father’s back to protect each other. Nyx, who let’s Mozu borrow her books without (many) complaints. Effie, always training to keep Elise safe. Everyone else is fighting for each other, for their own idea of family, and maybe Mozu can do that too.

 

-4-

 

She’s back on the battlefield, and this time her eyes are set with determination. Arrow after arrow flies high through the air. There’s heavy pegasus support, and she needs to keep them off the other’s backs. Shura and Niles are around, too, their arrows distinct from hers. Wyverns, black blobs against the sky, bob in and out, taking potshots at infantry or clashing with the pegasus riders who fly too low for their liking.

One black blob, specked with purple and blue, dives at a pegasus and meets it at an ugly angle. Mozu winces even as she takes aim at the faltering pegasus. The black blob hurtles downwards, in her direction. She steps out of the way, turning in a circle to look for any other encroaching pegasi. The wyvern flaps frantically to slow itself as it nears the ground, skidding across the dirt.

Beruka slides off the wyvern and onto the ground, clutching at her side and panting. The wyvern croaks uneasily and slinks further out front to prowl in case anyone on the ground breaks their frontline.

Mozu crouches beside her, rustling through her pouch for anything that will help.

“I need just a moment of reprieve. I misjudged my attack.” Her headband is soaked in sweat, and her hands have got to be freezing, even beneath her gauntlets.

Mozu nods and returns to her duty. Beruka is standing unsteadily the next time Mozu checks on her, and –

“Get down!” She tackles the shorter woman to the ground and they roll, a lance slicing through the air where Beruka’s chest had been a moment before. Beruka lands on top of her and Mozu wrestles an arrow onto her bow, arms encircling Beruka as she draws and fires at the retreating rider before they can turn around and make a second pass.

Mozu sighs in relief as her shot hits home, piercing one of the pegasus’ wings. Beruka’s breath is heavy and raspy in her air and she freezes as she realizes the position they’re in. And how dangerous it was to tackle an injured, out of it soldier. Beruka pushes herself off of her slowly, mindful of the spikes on her armor.

“I am fortunate that you are here.” Beruka chose to crash here, though. And that thought makes Mozu feel warm. Beruka _trusts her_.

“Not a problem. You take it easy for the rest of this battle, y’hear? Let me handle this.” She gets back to her feet, confident and ready to fire at whoever comes near them next.

 

-5-

 

Mozu frowns as she brushes out her hair. She’s out of flowers, and it’s not the right season for the kind she likes. It was bound to happen eventually. She had tried to dry a few, but they had just crinkled and fell apart when she handled them. Nyx had enchanted a few to stay fresh, but even that had worn off. It’s not that big of a deal, really. But her head still feels too light, and she feels that much sadder, like this proves she’s forgotten about her family. She goes about her day, and she can tell that the others have noticed the discrepancy, but no one says anything.

At least, not until Lady Camilla and Beruka appear in front of her, Camilla’s hands on Beruka’s shoulders. The royal pats her on the shoulder lovingly before shoving her forward and disappearing with a wink.

“Welcome back,” she offers. Beruka hasn’t been around in a few days, so she must’ve been on a mission again.

"I had to do a pickup for Lady Camilla.” Those’re her least favorite kind of errand, but no one wants the weapons of the royal family to be sabotaged.

“Anything new?” Sometimes Beruka gets a new axe or an upgrade to an old one. Beruka stares at her before reaching into her pockets.

“There was a personal effect I obtained alongside Lady Camilla’s usual requests.” There’s a box in her hands. Beruka clears her throat and hands it over. Mozu opens it curiously, and her heart skips a beat.

“It seems as if they were finished at an adequate time.” Inside the box is a pair of hair clips, made out of some kind of delicate pink crystal. They’re beautiful, and they look just like her usual roses.

“They are more durable than your usual adornments. More prudent for battle.” Warmth blossoms in Mozu’s chest, and a realization hits her. She likes Beruka. And judging by the not-blush on Beruka’s face, she likes her too.

“I love them.” She slides them experimentally into her hair, testing their weight. Beruka watches carefully, and reaches a hand out.

“They’re crooked.” She lets Beruka adjust them, face inches from hers. She’s blushing now, too, but she doesn’t want to make the first move yet. A plan’s already forming in her mind. They stand there for another moment. Beruka looks away first.

“I have to … check in with Lady Camilla.”

Mozu lets her go. She has _things_ to do.

 

\- +1 -

 

Only a few days later, Mozu is ready. She’s been awake since the sun set, and not even Beruka wakes up this early. The chefs had let her commandeer a portion of the kitchen with no complaints. Lady Camilla had been more than willing to impart some very key information, like the fact that today was Beruka’s birthday.

Beruka’s favorite dish was clutched in her hands, salted with twice as much salt as the recipe called for. She also had a bouquet of flowers, foxglove and nightshade and any other pretty, poisonous flower she could get her hands on. The hydrangeas match Beruka’s hair.

She wrings her hands and breathes out, then gathers her gifts and makes her way to Beruka’s tent. She knocks on the leather flap with bated breath. There’s rustling inside before Beruka pokes her head out. Her hair is sticking up in the back, and she’s still in pajamas.

“Surprise! Happy birthday!” Mozu thrusts her gifts forward. Beruka is wide-eyed.

“My birthday is not public information.” Mozu takes the invitation and ducks into the tent.

“Lady Camilla told me. I wanted to do somethin’ for you, to thank you for the hair clips.” They eat in comfortable silence.

“I haven’t celebrated my birthday in a long time. It didn’t seem necessary. This was acceptable.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want anythin’ flashy. I’m sure Lady Camilla got you something though.”

“It’s highly likely.”

“I, I also have another surprise for ya. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and spending time with you is always a treat. So, close your eyes.” She meets Beruka’s gaze hopefully, and though she looks curious, Beruka closes her eyes. Mozu leans down and kisses Beruka’s cheek.

She jerks back and her eyes fly open, a hand covering the spot immediately.

“Ah, sorry! Was that too forward?” Beruka clears her throat. “It was … unexpected. But not. Unwelcome.” Mozu beams.

“I knew you had to be sweet on me. I just only realized it recently.”

“It is an unusual person who turns their back on an assassin. Either very brave or very stupid. I decided to further investigate.” Mozu doesn’t really remember the first night they spoke, if she’s honest, but she supposed it doesn’t matter now.

“Well, I sure hope you decided on ‘brave’,” she says. Beruka quirks an eyebrow. “If not, then I won’t ever do this again.” Mozu steps closer and leans down once more, and this time she’s not aiming for Beruka’s cheek. She pulls away eventually, her arms around Beruka’s shoulder.

“What does this mean?” Beruka’s hands are around her neck, barely resting on the skin, like she’s afraid of hurting her.

“It means for the rest of this war, and after it, I want you to be a part a’ my new family.” Beruka looks down.

“I have no objections to this. I do not always know what I want, but I know that I want to keep what I feel for you.”

“That’s good enough for me.” And Mozu goes in for another kiss. There’s still some time before they’re expected around camp, afterall.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy femslash february! This is my like,, second time writing romance so please feel free to leave any constructive criticism you have below ^.^


End file.
